Chasing Memories
by livingondaydreams
Summary: Percy meets an unexpected helper while in San Francisco. Takes place just before the Son of Neptune. Twoshot. R&R
1. Chance

**A/N: My 20th fic! This is a really strange idea that popped into my head after reading the Son of Neptune preview. Takes place right before that, still in San Francisco. Enjoy, and please leave a review!  
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><p><strong>Chasing Memories<strong>

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><p>The worst thing about it, Percy thought, was that he could remember <em>parts<em>. Not the entire thing—just enough to tease him. Everything was tantalizingly out of reach.

He could only remember one name other than his own. _Annabeth_. He couldn't place her last name. Something with a _ch_, he thought. He wasn't sure, though. He wasn't sure about anything besides what Lupa had told him. His father was the ancient Roman god Neptune, which meant that Percy was a demigod. He had a blue ballpoint pen that turned into a glowing bronze sword called _Anaklusmos_ - Riptide. He didn't know how he knew Ancient Greek, but Lupa definitely hadn't been happy when he was able to translate the inscription perfectly. He had an orange T-shirt that got burned to ashes back in Reno and a necklace with clay beads on it.

Fragments of memory sliced through him at random intervals, making it increasingly difficult to concentrate. It had been like this for… two months, now? He'd been on the move for a long time. Fighting monsters, _grey eyes_, grabbing half-eaten food out of trash cans, _a blonde guy stabbing himself with a bronze knife_, fighting more monsters, _holding someone at the bottom of the sea_, running to the next almost-safe spot, _a bull bellowing in a thunderstorm_.

Percy shook his head, trying to clear it. He was sitting outside a café somewhere in San Francisco, planning on booking it out of there once the waitress brought his food. It wasn't like they could catch him, anyway, he reasoned. He'd gotten a lot of practice running in the last month or two.

He stared at the people passing by. They were so completely, wonderfully oblivious to everything. They had no idea that ancient Roman gods actually existed. They had no idea that monsters walked among them every day. They had no idea that the disheveled-looking teenage guy sitting at that overpriced restaurant was an amnesiac demigod, the son of Neptune, to be exact.

His trusty pen-sword tapped against his leg nervously. He hated waiting around. Any minute, a monster could sneak up on him, and he'd have to cause a scene to get out of there, and the police would get involved. Those cops in Nevada were probably still looking for him.

Suddenly, a man walked up to him. Percy automatically tensed. No complete stranger ever approached a demigod—they were usually some kind of monster.

This guy didn't look like the usual monster, though. He had short, messy, sandy-colored hair and a scruffy beard. His eyes were a bit startling; they were incredibly bright, like he was either a genius or a madman, or maybe both. The buttons on his shirt were mismatched, making one side stick up higher than the other, and he held an old-fashioned aviator hat.

"Percy? Percy Jackson?" the man asked. He looked at Percy closely, as if he was trying to determine if it was really him. Percy was pretty sure that he'd never seen this middle-aged guy from San Francisco before. Then again, he could only remember one person from whatever life he'd had before this.

He must have looked pretty confused, because the guy said, "I'm Professor Chase. Annabeth's father, remember? We met a few years ago…"

_Annabeth Chase_.

Percy jumped up as if an electric shock had shot through him. "Annabeth? Did you say Annabeth? Who is she? Where is she? Gods, I'm sorry, I'm probably not making any sense—I just—oh, my gods…"

Dr. Chase's eyebrows were so far up on his forehead, they looked like they might disappear into his receding hair. Percy didn't blame him, of course; he must've seemed like a complete lunatic. Which wasn't an option he had ruled out for himself, yet.

He put both hands on Annabeth's father's shoulders firmly. "Annabeth Chase, you said? Blonde hair, grey eyes…?"

"Yes, of course. Percy, I must say, you're looking a little… unsettled. Maybe you want to come back to our apartment? We won't hold you up, I promise, wherever you're going."

His mom (not that he remembered her or anything) had probably told him a million times not to talk to strangers. And he _definitely_ wasn't supposed to accept invitations to accompany said strangers into their houses in unfamiliar cities while he had amnesia.

But the funny thing was, he _trusted_ Dr. Chase. Sure, he looked a little crazy, but he was Annabeth's father. Percy didn't doubt that—from what little he remembered about Annabeth, he could tell that the two were pretty similar.

So he said yes. He walked out of the little gated area outside that overpriced café just as the very confused-looking waitress came out with his food. He wasn't hungry anymore, though. Or rather, his hunger had shifted—he _had _to find out more about Annabeth. Annabeth Chase.

"I have to admit, Percy, I'm a bit surprised to see you here. I would think you'd be in New York," Dr. Chase said casually as they walked. The words _New York_ sent a shiver down his spine. There was something he should remember about that place. He just couldn't remember what he should remember.

"New York…" he murmured.

"Yes," Mr. Chase nodded cheerfully. "At camp, or with your mother. Isn't that were you live? Or maybe she told me New Hampshire…"

His spine was practically vibrating with the force of the shivers running up and down it. _New York. Camp. Mother. _He lived in New York. He lived in New York?

"Oh! Percy, didn't you go missing?" Mr. Chase exclaimed, turning towards him suddenly and coming to a dead stop on the doorstep of a nice apartment building. "I thought Annabeth said something a while ago..."

Percy's mouth opened and closed a couple times. How in the name of Neptune could he answer _that_ question?

Before he could formulate any sort of answer, Professor Chase ushered him in the door and up a flight or two of stairs.

"I'm home! And we've got company," Mr. Chase called, throwing his keys onto a cluttered table beside the door. Looking around, Percy felt a strange sense of déjà vu. He _remembered_ this apartment. The multiple aviator hats hanging on the wall, the Lego bricks strewn across the floor, the smell of cookies coming from the kitchen through that archway with the black-and-white pictures. Maybe he had been here before he lost his memories.

"Good! You're just in time for the cookies," a lady called back, taking a baking sheet out of the oven. She set it down on a rack without turning around. Throwing the oven mitts down on the counter, she looked over her shoulder at her husband. (Or at least, that's what he thought. Yeah, he was pretty sure Dr. Chase was married…)

"Oh!" Mrs. Chase cried. "Percy? Is that you? My goodness, Annabeth will be so… Fred, where on earth did you find him?"

"He was wandering around San Francisco." He turned towards Percy again. "Percy, why _have_ you been away from camp for so long? Everyone is frantic over there."

He floundered for a second. So people were looking for him. People from a camp in New York, one he used to go to.

"I… don't really know. I just woke up two months ago, somewhere in Colorado, without any memories." He shrugged.

"You lost your memory? Oh, no _wonder_ they haven't been able to find you! You poor dear," Mrs. Chase bustled over to him and steered him into a seat at the counter before he could object.

"So that's why you looked so confused…" Professor Chase mused. "But you remembered Annabeth?"

He nodded cautiously. "Bits and pieces. I remember her name, and what she looks like, and a few memories… but she's the only part of my life I remember, other than my name. She's… she's a demigod, too, right? At _camp_…" He trailed off, wondering at the strange feel of the words in his mouth.

"Amazing. Oh, we have to call her—she'll be so happy! She's been so upset lately, you know. Looking for you all over the country…" Mrs. Chase grabbed a pile of cookies off the sheet and happily shoved them into his hands.

"Can you… tell me more about her? Anything. I just want to _know_." He said the words hesitatingly, trying to keep the sudden feelings of longing out of his voice. Mrs. Chase hugged him, which took him a bit off guard, but he hugged her back.

And the Chases told him about _her, _stories about when she was a little girl. How she killed an attacking dracaena at the age of five by electrocuting it. How she ran away when she was only seven. At some points, he interrupted to ask more questions, or repeat the Greek names uncertainly, or laugh, or ask "Did she really do that?"

And he felt so _content_ in that cluttered little kitchen, eating cookies and listening to stories about the only person he could remember - the only person that mattered. Being there was the sole positive feeling he'd had since that awful day when he realized that he was completely alone, without friends, help, or even memories.

They were just getting to their first quest together—recovering Zeus's stolen lightning bolt—when something large and black and furry came crashing through the door, barking insanely and staring straight at him. A hellhound, he thought. He uncapped his pen-sword Riptide and ran forward, slashing at the monster's neck. _A giant squeaky yak in the middle of an arena_. He shook his head, wishing he knew what that glimpse of a memory meant.

Within seconds, the monster was only a pile of dust on the polished wooden floor of the apartment. He turned back to Dr. and Mrs. Chase with an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry. I should go. More will be coming soon…" He started to backpedal towards the ruined door.

"Percy, wait, you don't have to—" Professor Chase said, reaching forward as if to stop him.

"I'm so sorry. Tell Annabeth that - that I love her. Please. And—" The words seemed to get stuck in his throat. "And that she can't give up. I'm sorry."

And he ran out the door, knowing that he was running away from every answer about his past, about _Annabeth_, that he would ever get, and not knowing why.


	2. Lost

**A/N: I decided to make this a twoshot. Sorry to those of you who were hoping that this would become a full-fledged story. **

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><p><strong>Chasing Memories<strong>

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><p>Annabeth was barely able to shut the phone because she was so numb.<p>

He had been _there_. Percy Jackson, her boyfriend who'd gone missing two months ago, had been in her father's apartment in San Francisco. And the worst part? She had been out there not three days ago visiting. She had missed him by _seventy two hours_. Four thousand twenty minutes. Two hundred fifty nine thousand, two hundred seconds.

Her mind ran in semicoherent circles. Percy had been in her house. He'd sat at the same counter, probably tripped over the same Legos. They were so close, but, as cliché as it was, so far away. Being in the exact same place and just missing each other by a few days, when they've been searching for two months across the continent. It _would_ happen to them, she thought. Because the gods never made anything easy. Hera probably did it to torture Annabeth more, and Aphrodite would have been completely content with the plan because of her delusional conception that love was more fun if you suffered.

Her dad and stepmother had seen him before _she_ had. How in Hades was _that_ fair? Actually, how was any of this fair?

With a frustrated yell, she threw the phone down on the floor of the Big House's living room, where she'd been pacing for the last quarter of an hour as she listened to her mortal family talk about Percy's visit. She'd practically begged for every single detail they could spare. What did he look like? Did he have a purple shirt on? Did he mention where he was going? What did they say to him? Her stepmother, thankfully, had one of those minds that remembered minutiae. She had been able to give Annabeth a complete description of every aspect of the encounter, right down to what brand of shoes Percy was wearing.

A muted knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Annabeth, dear? Are you alright?" came Chiron's voice through the door. She blinked, turning around.

"Uh, yeah," she called. "Come on in." She bent to pick up the phone with trembling fingers as the centaur entered, quietly closing the door behind him. Sitting with a huff on the worn leather couch, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes like she had a headache. Which she did, kind of. It was most likely a product of the ever-present stress.

"What did they say?" Chiron asked gently. Without looking, she knew exactly what his expression would be like. His eyebrows would be furrowed with concern over those sad, fatherly eyes. And a small frown would be on his mouth, just like all the other times he'd shown his worry about her these last few months. She knew Chiron wasn't the only one who was noticing her gradual mental breakdown.

She ran her hands over her face tiredly, even though it was the middle of the day.

"My dad found Percy somewhere in San Francisco. He brought him back to the apartment, but then a hellhound attacked and he ran off because he felt guilty," she sighed. Chiron kept silent, probably guessing that there was more that she wanted to say. After a while, she said in a tiny, almost scared-sounding voice, "He—he remembered me. He could barely remember anything about his own life, but he knew what my favorite color is, and that I have two little brothers, and that I call him Seaweed Brain…"

She opened her eyes to find Chiron smiling at her sadly. "You feel bad about that, don't you? That he remembers you, but nothing about himself."

Against her will, tears began to prick at her eyes. She blinked them back ferociously. She'd cried too much lately. She had to be strong—she was a daughter of Athena, for the gods' sakes.

"Yeah. I do. I mean, I'm… happy that he remembers me," she said slowly. "But it doesn't seem _fair_ that he knows all those things about me, and nothing from his life. Shouldn't there be some kind of balance? How is the knowledge of a nickname I gave him when we were twelve going to help him survive?"

Chiron sighed. "You never know, I suppose. The smallest things can become unexpectedly important. We learned that in the last war."

"You know what the worst part of this is?" She wasn't usually one to complain, but she just needed to say it out loud. And if her audience was going to be a six thousand year-old centaur, well, so be it. "It's knowing that even if I _had_ been out there, and seen him, and he remembered me, I couldn't have done anything. I would've had to let him go off to the Roman camp, because of Hera's stupid plan."

Thunder rolled in the distance, but she ignored it. She had never cared less about what the queen of the gods thought. What had she done to deserve this punishment? Were a few insults and a refusal to sacrifice really worth having Percy stolen from her? She knew, of course, being the rational daughter of Athena that she was, that Hera hadn't acted simply because of her grudge. But sometimes Annabeth couldn't help but think that the goddess took extra measures to torture her.

"We have to have faith," Chiron reminded her gently. "In both the gods and Percy. I highly doubt that Percy will allow himself to die. We know that he's safe as of this morning, and we also know that he remembers you. At the moment, that's all we can hope for." He patted her on the shoulder and quietly left the room.

Annabeth's mind spun with the weight of what she'd heard that morning. It was all too much to handle. Percy had been so close, nearly within her reach, but she was supposed to trust the gods—the same gods who were ignoring their children, the same gods who had separated her from Percy in the first place—and let him slip away. How was any of this fair? How was she supposed to keep fighting, when all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and sob? She thought about Percy's words to her mortal parents: _Tell her that I love her, and that she can't give up._

How could he know her so well, even when he could barely remember her? Could he possibly sense how close she was to throwing down her knife and surrendering to the turmoil inside of her?

_Tell her that I love her, and that she can't give up_.

She wouldn't cave, not yet.

For Percy.


End file.
